


still be two days til we say we're sorry

by otherinfinities



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 11:14:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otherinfinities/pseuds/otherinfinities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis knows he’s wrong. He was a twat, a dick, an asshole, and all the other names Harry had been throwing at him the past two days. He knows Harry has every right to be upset. But he also knows how this works, how HarryandLouis work. He knows he should apologize, but he also knows he won’t – not yet.</p><p>or Harry and Louis are fighting and both are too stubborn to give in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	still be two days til we say we're sorry

**Author's Note:**

> Title and idea from One Week by the Barenaked Ladies.

**Saturday**

 

Harry is mad. Louis can tell from the aggressive slamming of his car door and the passive aggressive silence he maintains on the ride home. He hears it in each of his deliberate footfalls up the steps to their flat, feels it in the way his shoulder brushes Louis as he enters. Louis is just waiting.

It’s not until they’ve both stripped down and getting in bed that Harry finally speaks up.

“You were a dick tonight, you know that?” And there it is.

Louis doesn’t need to say anything, knowing Harry won’t even listen anyway. When he’s angry, there’s no stopping him.

“You could at least _try_ to be nice to my friends. But, no, you couldn’t just pretend to like them for one night _for me_ , you had to go and insult them.”

“Nick’s an insufferable twat,” Louis snorts because it’s true. But, Harry’s angry and that was clearly the wrong thing to say.

“ _You_ were an insufferable twat! You called him a pedophile!”

Louis laughs, it had been a good joke, perfectly timed and executed.

 “Goddamn it, Louis.” Harry growls.

“He seems to like you a bit _too much_ , is all I was saying.”

“We’re friends! I’m allowed to have friends without you getting possessive!”       

“Look, I didn’t even want to go out with you guys tonight because I knew he’d be there, but you made me go anyway.”

Harry is livid. “Oh, so this is my fault?” He’s shouting now. Louis makes a note to send a nice muffin basket to the neighbors.

“You always fucking do this. You’re a fucking child!” Harry yells as he storms toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Louis asks exasperatedly. They have only been fighting for two minutes but Louis feels like he’s just run a marathon. But that’s the way everything is with _HarryandLouis_.

“Just apologize, Louis. Admit you were a dick,” Harry bites back.

“You can hardly blame me – aw, c’mon, Haz,” Louis sighs and Harry can’t even say he’s surprised.

“Fuck you,” Harry spits and slams the door on his way out.

 

-

 

The bed is too empty. Sure, Louis loves to sprawl out and stretch his body across the entire bed, but he prefers to do so tangled up in Harry. He can’t sleep, just thrashing about, clutching at the cold expanse of sheets.

Louis silently opens the door and walks down the hall to the living room. He can see Harry lying on the couch, his limbs too long to even fit properly. He knows he’s not asleep, even though his eyes are closed. His mouth twitches and his breath is not yet even.

When Louis clears his throat, he sees Harry peek open his right eye and then immediately snap it shut. He folds his arms across his chest and lets out a small huff. Louis shuffles his bare feet across the room and set himself on the carpet so that his head can rest on the sofa next to Harry’s bare shoulder. Louis really just wants to press him into the couch and make him forget the whole fight. He doesn’t touch him, not yet.

“Harry,” Louis coaxes and it’s enough for Harry to open his eyes. The look he gives Louis is menacing, like a lion feasting upon his prey. He looks as if he’s ready to pounce at the slightest movement. And, God, Louis hopes he will.

“Harry,” Louis says again, breathing hotly on his neck. Harry’s breath catches and his pulse speeds up, looking angrier and hungrier down at Louis. He knows what Louis is doing. Louis’ torn between his burning desire to keep riling Harry up and his desperate need to touch him and push him over the edge.

“Hazza,” Louis coos and he can’t restrain himself any longer, not with the way Harry’s eyes, now black with rage and lust, burn right into him. He runs his fingertips along the fuming man’s cheek. Harry growls and grabs Louis’ wrist, then wasting no time in crashing their faces together. With a messy clanking of teeth, Harry is fiercely biting at Louis’ mouth, all pretense of kissing lost. Louis makes a strangled noise and pulls the lanky body off the couch and on top of him on the ground.

Harry trails away from Louis’ mouth, biting sharply along his jaw. “So. Fucking. Frustrating,” Harry snarls, punctuating each word with a bite down Louis’ neck and Louis knows what’s coming next. The smaller man gasps as he’s roughly stripped of his clothes. He moans as Harry opens him up and fucks him, marking his skin red with lovebites, nail marks, and the rawness of carpet burn.

Louis looks up into Harry’s eyes and sees his anger and his lust. His eyes are so black and his gaze is so intense, that Louis is almost scared of what Harry would do to him, but he knows Harry would never take it that far, he could never hurt Louis. Louis trusts Harry so completely, that he’s willing to give him this, let him take control and let out his anger and frustration. Louis needs this, needs to give the green-eyed boy everything he has. Louis looks up into Harry’s eyes and knows he must understand, because he understands Louis and, more importantly, he understands _HarryandLouis_.  

Once the boys both come with shouts of each other’s names and marks sucked into each other’s skin, they lie panting on the carpet, reveling in the feeling of each other.

“Well, I’m certainly not sorry about _that_ ,” Louis says once his breathing had slowed to an almost normal rate.

Harry laughs and pulls Louis’ body on top of his. “You’re a dick,” he says, gentler than he had said all the times before. He kisses the bruises now blooming on Louis’ neck and runs a soothing hand along the stinging scratches down his chest.

“Mm, but you love me,” Louis teases fondly, breathing contently at Harry’s ministrations.

“You’re still a dick.”

 

 

**Sunday**

 

“Oi! What are you two fighting about this time?” Niall says, hopping up onto the counter next to where Harry is preparing breakfast. Harry smacks his leg in reprimand, but with no real malice – that’s reserved for Louis these days.

“Good morning, Nialler. I didn’t even hear you knock,” Louis says sarcastically as he enters the kitchen.

“One of these days you boys will learn to lock your door – for both of our sakes. But, you’re avoiding the question, Tommo. What’d you do to piss off Harry?”

“What makes you think we’re fighting?” Louis asks innocently. “Hey! And why do you assume it’s my fault?” he adds indignantly.

“Because it smells like sex in here and you two don’t fuck on the couch unless that’s where Harry’s sleeping.” Harry blushes furiously, having a bit more dignity than Louis who smirks triumphantly.

“And it’s always your fault, Louis.” Niall adds, swiping the hot pancake Harry just placed on the plate next to him.

Louis pouts, Harry laughs.

           

-

 

That night, not even an hour after Louis had gone to bed and Harry had settled on the couch, Harry is sneaking down the hall, creaking open the door to his and Louis’ bedroom, and climbing into bed behind Louis. Neither could ever really sleep without the other, even when they were fighting.

When Louis feels the dip in the bed and the heat of Harry’s body, he turns over and curls into his boyfriend’s side. His arm crosses across the larger man’s body and his fingers trace the lines of his abs, leaving trails of goose bumps in his flesh. Harry sighs contently as Louis kisses hotly against his bare chest.

“I haven’t forgiven you,” Harry states, wrapping his arm around the smaller man’s shoulders.

“Good because I haven’t apologized.”

 

 

**Monday**

 

Louis knows he’s wrong. He was a twat, a dick, an asshole, and all the other names Harry had been throwing at him the past two days. He knows Harry has every right to be upset. But he also knows how this works, how _HarryandLouis_ work. He knows he should apologize, but he also knows he won’t – not yet. It’s a pride thing. He doesn’t like to admit when he’s done wrong. Harry knows this and, no matter how much he just wants to forgive Louis to get over whatever stupid thing they are fighting over, he also has pride to maintain. So it becomes a game, seeing who’ll cave first. They’ll dance around one another for days. Louis secretly loves it (and knows Harry does too), the thrill of the tension and electricity between them. And if the sex is a bit rough, well, he doesn’t complain.

At breakfast, Harry doesn’t make Louis a cup of tea.

“Mature,” Louis mutters, reaching to get the kettle himself.

They sit at the table opposite one another, sipping their mugs silently and eyeing one another in challenge to speak. Louis can tell Harry is getting frustrated. Each time he looks ready to speak, Louis cocks an eyebrow in intrigue and Harry quickly shuts his mouth or takes another swig of tea. His expression sets even firmer in its scowl with Louis’ annoyingly smug smirk.

“Well,” Louis says loudly, pushing away from the table. “I’m off to work. Be a good lad, y’hear? Sell lots of records and all that,” He chirps brightly with a pat to the head of curls. He wants nothing more than to run his fingers through the soft brown tendrils, but he must remind himself that this is war.

“Oh and give dear Nick my best,” he calls as he slams the door behind him and Harry clenches his jaw so tight it just might shatter.

 

-

 

“What’d you do this time?” Zayn asks as Louis enters the teacher’s lounge.

“I’m gonna kill bleach-headed Irishman when I see him. He breaks into my house and I still have the kindness to feed him, and he can’t even keep his goddamn mouth shut.”

“Harry feeds him. And he didn’t tell me anything, Harry did, called me up this morning yelling about you being a twat and a child. He hardly let me speak before he hung up. So what’d you do?”

“Hmm, yeah, he did say something about me being a twat,” Louis muses absently while making his cup of tea.

“And were you?” Zayn prompts.

“Don’t you have students to torture with Hemmingway? Or a PE teacher to make out with behind some bleachers?” Louis asks teasingly.

“Liam is sick today.”

“Shame, that boy can really work a pair of trackies.”

“Louis,” Zayn says sternly, clearly not buying what Louis was trying to pull off.

Louis sighs, dropping to the sofa, “I suppose I wasn’t the _nicest_ I could’ve been to Nick. I could’ve probably stopped at four old man jokes and been a little bit more lenient with his music taste. But, the pedophile joke was funny and I don’t regret saying it. That’s Harry’s fault if he’s too uptight to appreciate humor.”

“Apologize, Lou.”

“Not yet. It’s only been two days and he hasn’t thrown anything at my head yet so I’ve got at least another two in me as far as personal safety goes. But I think I can hold out longer. I almost got him to crack this morning and forgive me without an apology.”

“I don’t get you two. Seriously, it’s unhealthy,” Zayn remarks with a roll of his eyes.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Louis says dramatically, “Or some shit like that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a brilliant Shakespeare drama to direct. They don’t pay me to sit around and look pretty.”

 

-

 

When Louis gets home, Harry’s not there, which is odd because it’s Monday and the record shop closes early. Monday nights are their takeaway nights, even when they are fighting. They’ll fight over what kind of lo mein to order or what toppings to get on the pizza, then grumble at each other from opposite sides of the couch as they watch reruns of _Friends_.

He’s about to worry when he gets a text:

**gone for drinks with lads from the shop dont wait up**

A moment later, he receives another:

**dear nick sends his love .xx**

Oh course he fucking does. He has to remind himself to be calm. He knows what game Harry’s playing, but Louis is determined to win.

**have a round on me love xxx**

Louis sends of a quick text to Niall telling him to keep an eye on Harry, he tends to get out of hand when he’s trying to prove a point, and orders Chinese takeaway for one. He settles in front of the tv and tries his best not to imagine how Nick probably has his armed draped around Harry or how he is probably talking into his ear at the crowded pub. _The Notebook_ is on, Harry’s favorite. Louis doesn’t even like the movie, but he knows Harry would be upset to know he watched it without him. So he does.

 

 

**Tuesday**

 

It’s three am when Harry finally stumbles in. Louis wasn’t exactly asleep, but he’s still annoyed by the interruption.

“Soz,” Harry slurs.

He smells like vodka and Nick’s stupid cologne and Louis hates it. He wants to fuck the curly haired boy into the mattress so that it’s his name he’ll be slurring and he’ll forget all about pretentious, fucking twat Nick. But Harry’s drunk and maybe now’s not the time.

“You stink,” Louis says, wrapping a possessive arm around Harry’s middle and drawing the larger boy into him.

“Mm, shower in the morning,” Harry breathes sleepily.

“It is morning, you dolt.”

Harry sighs noncommittally and soon his breathing evens out and he’s asleep in Louis’ arms.

 

-

 

They shower in the morning, just like Harry had promised. Louis gets down on his knees and blows Harry as he lathers shampoo in his feathery fringe. Harry grunts and shouts Louis’ name until his voice is hoarse and Louis is satisfied.

Once they are properly washed up, Harry goes to the kitchen to put the kettle on, without even bothering for clothes of any kind, while Louis goes to get dressed. When he enters the kitchen a few minutes later, he sees the tall man pouring two cups of tea. He thinks perhaps its guilt for going out with Nick last night or thanks for the amazing shower head, either way it’s one step closer to a victory for Louis.

“Hey, babe,” Louis calls entering the kitchen.

“Lou, I saw this amazing band last night. Grimmy introduced me to them. You’ve got to listen to them some time,” Harry says and Louis knows it’s not over. “Though, you probably wouldn’t like them. They’re too – what do you call it? – whiny-hipster-twat-ish?” He’s working Louis up. Harry knows what he’s doing and Louis knows that it’s working.

He gives him a tauntingly sweet smile and goes to hand over the mug when Louis blurts out, “I watched _The Notebook_ without you.”

Harry pours Louis’ tea into the sink.

 

 

**Wednesday**

 

Wednesday night they try to be civil. Movie night, they decide. But “civil” and “movie night” do not go hand-in-hand when it comes to _HarryandLouis_ and perhaps it wasn’t such a great idea considering the mess they are in.

“I already watched _The Notebook_ once this week, Harry. Not again with that sappy shit. We’re watching _Spiderman_.” Louis snatches the remote from Harry’s hands. He sticks his left palm to Harry’s face to fend off his efforts to regain control of the remote, and, with the remote in his right hand, selects the movie he wants. When the _Thank You for Your Purchase_ message appears on the screen Louis releases Harry’s flailing limbs and sits back triumphantly.

“You’re so fucking selfish,” Harry grunts, tearing himself away from the couch and stomping into the kitchen like a child. Louis sighs and waits a moment, hoping Harry will return.

After a few minutes pass, Louis hears the water of the kitchen sink running, and he gets up and goes into the kitchen. Harry is at the sink, with his back to Louis, washing dishes. His broad shoulders and taut muscles are on display through his thin white t-shirt as he violently scrubs the plates.

“Y’know, Haz, maybe if you had better _taste_ , I wouldn’t have to be so selfish.”

Harry stills and stands for a moment. Suddenly he is spun around, gripping a soapy plate in his hand. His face is set in the angry scowl it had become so accustomed to recently.

“We’re not talking about movies anymore, are we.” It’s not a question.

“I don’t know, Harry, I was talking about your penchant for old people’s sappy love stories. You do seem to have a thing for old men,” Louis responds indifferently. And, okay, yeah, now he’s working Harry up. He doesn’t mean it. Any other night he would grumble and complain, but ultimately Harry would win out and Louis would shut up about how stupid Noah and Allie are because Harry would he captivated by the romance and Louis would be captivated by Harry. But, tonight, Louis is out to make Harry’s blood boil.

He looks at Harry who looks as if he is about to burst from all the tension he is restraining. His jaw is set firm and his grip around the plate is dangerously tight.

“I’m going to throw this plate at your head,” Harry growls.

Louis laughs, and Harry does.

The plate misses Louis’ head by several feet, crashing into the cabinet, shattering, and sending shards of porcelain across the kitchen floor. Louis is stunned for only a moment before he is surging forward with adrenaline driven lust because, fuck, that was hot. His lips find Harry’s neck, Harry’s hands find Louis’ torso, and their bodies somehow find the bedroom.

 

-

 

“Well that’s better _The Notebook_ any day,” Louis says. Harry slaps him lightly, curling into him and looking up at the stubborn man.

“Lou,” Harry coos, brushing his fingertips lightly along a cut on Louis’ cheek. The injured man hisses. “You’re bleeding.”

“Some crazy man threw a plate at my head.”

“I did warn you,” Harry mumbles as his lips press into the torn skin of the tanned man’s cheek.

“Mmm,” Louis agrees, but he really couldn’t care about the cut or the plate or the fact that _Spiderman_ is still playing in the living room.

 

 

**Thursday**

 

“It’s Thursday,” is what Harry says when Louis enters the kitchen that morning. They stand on opposite sides of the room, squaring each other up. Louis smirks.

“Have you anything to say to me?” Harry prompts.

“I don’t believe so, love. Have you anything to say to me?” Louis retorts.

“Not until you say something to me, I don’t,” Harry smiles.

“Well, good. Then it can wait a few days.”

Louis grabs his graded papers from the table, shoving them into his bag, and gives Harry a quick peck on the temple before he’s out the door.

 

-

“It’s been nearly a week. Think it’s about time to end this?” Zayn asks Louis.

“We miss hanging out with you two, but we’re not about to step into the middle of a war zone,” Liam adds, gesturing to Louis’ scratched cheek.

Louis sighs, “I fear that curly-haired bastard will beat me out soon enough.”

“He always does,” Liam says.

-

 

Thursday night Harry is pouty and Louis hates it. He does everything he can to make him laugh. He tells stupid jokes and plays with his food at dinner, but Harry isn't biting. His laughs are half-hearted and his smiles don’t reach his eyes.

“I’m tired, Lou,” Harry says when Louis suggests they watch a movie (since the previous night’s movie hadn’t gone as planned). Louis thinks this is far worse than shouting and throwing plates. But he just nods and follows his boyfriend to bed, tucking his body behind the larger man’s and holding him close as he falls asleep.

 

**Friday**

           

Harry is still pouty and Louis thinks perhaps it’s time to end this fight. Of course, his pride is still at stake so he can’t just go admitting all his faults on a whim. It needs to be tactical, so he can make Harry happy again without having to really lose the game.

That night, when they are lying in bed, Louis rolls over and perches his chin on Harry’s bare chest.

“So, I was thinking,” he begins.

“Imagine that,” Harry scoffs lightly. Louis rolls his eyes.

“I was thinking that maybe we could go out for drinks tomorrow night with, uh, Nick or whatever,” Louis mumbles.

Harry’s smile lights up 500 watts, “Well, I’ll be.”

“Shut up. Will you ask him?”

“Of course, Lou. Anything for you.” He kisses Louis with a gentleness their lips hadn’t felt in the past week. Their tongues tangle languidly together as they explore this new careful movement. Louis hands tug at the soft brown curls, but with far less malice than he had before. His nails scratch lightly at the man’s scalp, eliciting small purrs. Louis smiles as Harry presses deeper into his mouth and caresses his hands up and down his torso.

“For the record,” Louis pauses, “this isn’t me saying I’m sorry.”

Harry smiles and captures Louis’ lips with his again. “Good because, for the record, this isn’t me saying I forgive you.”

That night the sex isn’t rough or lustful like it had been. Instead it’s slow and gentle, Louis pressing _I’m sorry’s_ into Harry’s skin and Harry accepting them with touches of _I forgive you_.

And if Louis has to endure another Saturday night with that twat Grimshaw, he really couldn’t be bothered to care. Because Harry is his and he is Harry’s and they are _HarryandLouis_ , and that’s just how they work. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! You can find me on [tumblr](http://www.yoursunkissedlight.tumblr.com) if you so desire :)


End file.
